Will God for ev-er cast us off?
His wrath for ev-er smoke
A-gainst the peo-ple of his love,
His lit-tle cho-sen flock?
Think of the tribes so dear-ly bought
With their Re-deem-er's blood;
Nor let thy Zi-on be for-got,
Where once thy glo-ry stood.
Lift up thy feet and march in haste,
A-loud our ru-in calls;
See what a wide and fear-ful waste
Is made with-in thy walls.
Where once thy chur-ches prayed and sang,
Thy foes pro-fane-ly roar;
O-ver thy gates their en-signs hang,
Sad to-kens of their power.
How are the seats of wor-ship broke!
They tear the build-ings down,
And he that deals the heav-iest stroke
Pro-cures the chief re-nown.
No pro-phet speaks to calm our woes,
But all the se-ers mourn;
There's not a soul a-mongst us knows
The time of thy re-turn.
How long, e-ter-nal God, how long
Shall men of pride blas-pheme?
Shall saints be made their end-less song,
And bear im-mor-tal shame?
Canst thou for ev-er sit and hear
Thine ho-ly name pro-faned?
And still thy jea-lous-y for-bear,
And still with-hold thine hand?
What strange de-liv'-rance hast thou shown
In a-ges long be-fore!
And now no o-ther God we own,
No o-ther God a-dore.
Thou didst di-vide the rag-ing sea
By thy re-sist-less might,
To make thy tribes a won-drous way,
And then se-cure their flight.
Is not the world of na-ture thine,
The dark-ness and the day?
Didst thou not bid the morn-ing shine,
And mark the sun his way?
Hath not thy power formed ev-ery coast,
And set the earth its bounds,
With sum-mer's heat, and win-ter's frost,
In their per-pe-tual rounds?
And shall the sons of earth and dust
That sa-cred power blas-pheme?
Will not thy hand that formed them first
A-venge thine in-jured name?
Our foes would tri-umph in our blood,
And make our hope their jest;
Plead thy own cause, Al-might-y God,
And give thy child-ren rest.
*Music: Composed Feb 2007 by Mitch Cervinka. Donated to the Public Domain for the unrestricted use of Christ's church.